


The Rafael Barba Playbook

by Ezellia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Barba Oneliners, M/M, Relationship Snippets, Variation on a 5+1, Ya boys falling in love, fake cases, texting Rita
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 14:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezellia/pseuds/Ezellia
Summary: Lawyering is more than disarming charm and confidence. If you ask Rafael, it’s not even about being smarter. It’s about what you say and how you say it. It’s linguistics. It’s semantics, nuance, inference. It’s framing the evidence with cadence and verbiage. It’s about outsmarting the enemy with words. And sometimes, it’s about outsmarting your boyfriend, because lawyering doesn’t have an off switch.Or, a rough translation of “Five times Rafael uses his “lawyer words” on Carisi, and one time Carisi uses them right back”Rated E for chapter 4, all others are G/T.





	1. Walk Me Through This

Growing up, Rafael steadfastly believed in the idea of a soulmate. Of course, his parents weren't it, he knew that. His father was a mean bastard and not his mother's soulmate. Perhaps that's why the idea appealed to him so much - the idea that there was someone in the world made just for him. Someone who fit seamlessly and perfectly into his life. And no matter how mean or how drunk his father was towards himself or his mother, Rafael never completely let go of the idea. At least, not until he hit high school and his first real heart break with Yolanda. After Yolanda, Rafael understands that love is real (and it was eating him up inside), but soulmates were not. The idea of a soulmate was much too perfect. 

Rafael doesn't think much on the idea of soulmates again for a long time. Not until he starts working at SVU, and then he has two types of instances in which he does. 

The first instance is the most tragic - every other week Rafael's got a perp on the other side of a one-way mirror, pouring out their soul to the detectives about how they stalked or raped or killed the victim because they were soulmates. On a bad day, it's all three. But on any regular day, there are parades of abusive boyfriends, obsessed girlfriends, mentally delusional individuals, through SVU. And Rafael meets them all. And for a while it sours him to the idea of soulmates and true love. Nobody, under any circumstance, has any right to lay proprietary claim to another person. He thinks he says as much one beautiful Sunday afternoon when some trashbag perp has his defense attorney arguing that he killed his girlfriend by reason of mental defect. 

The second instance, though. The second instance is Detective Dominick Carisi Jr., and he is the furthest thing from Rafael's soulmate. 

For starters, the mustache. And after the mustache is gone, then there's nothing to draw the eye away from Carisi's downright offensive professional wardrobe. Beneath the wardrobe, Carisi can't seem to be bothered to think once, much less twice, before he opens his mouth. He's offending victims, witnesses, family, and coworkers left and right with that horrible Staten Island accent. Speaking of,  _the_ _accent_  is it's own complaint.Rafael swears that Carisi  _sneezes_ with an accent. He's overly touchy with black slaps and single-arm hugs all around, and he's constantly oversharing about his three sisters or some nugget of wisdom from his mother. 

All in all, Carisi is offensive to all five of the human senses and is somehow the cutest thing that Rafael has ever had the pleasure of despising. It's not just him either, at some point Fin becomes willing to sit within ten feet of Carisi, Liv is comfortable giving him independent opportunities on cases, and Rollins can be seen whispering with him in conspiratorial fashion around the coffeemaker. Perhaps it's because the team was still reeling from the sudden losses of so many of their own, but after a while the way that Carisi lights up the squadroom when he comes in with cannolis becomes endearing instead of annoying. His usual cheer and overall revolting zest for life at eight in the morning becomes just the smallest bit infectious. 

It's inevitable that, like with everyone else, Carisi eventually crawls his way under Rafael's incredibly-bi-and-unashamed skin. And before Rafael can do anything to stop it, like bleaching his amygdala with bad bourbon, he's in love with this golden-retriever-turned-Detective. 

And if that wasn't bad enough, Rafael knows exactly when he realized Carisi was as close to a soulmate as he’ll ever want. Or in other words, when he fell in love. Semantics. And nevermind what Rita says about how cute or sweet that is. Any lawyer worth their salt has a healthy appreciation for timelines; an indisputable chain of events is the closest thing to a professional orgasm as Rafael can get. Right after indisputable video evidence of a crime, which happens rarely enough that Rafael will settle for his timelines. 

That’s how Rafael knows he fell in love with Carisi on a Wednesday.

Well, that, and he remembers the weekly buy-one-get-one-half-off deal at the local coffee shop every Wednesday. He stops in on his way to the office that morning without really thinking it through. He’d done it on a whim, because it was winter and the walk to work was cold, and Carisi’s ears always get cherry-red when the wind is this nasty. Rafael had a Caramel Macchiato, extra caramel, in one hand and a black double shot espresso in the other before he could think twice about it. After all, Carisi had pulled a double shift the day before putting together a case file for Rafael's convenience. He was doing the right thing by repaying a thoughtful gesture, that's all.

Rafael also remembers, with painful clarity, proving all his fussing to be a moot point when he chickens out of gifting the coffee properly, instead dropping it on the corner of Carisi’s desk disguised as a free coffee he got when the Barista made a mistake on his order the first time. He doesn’t give Carisi the time to realize that he’s been given a specialty beverage whereas Rafael drinks black coffee exclusively, which makes the situation suspicious and subject to further investigation. Instead, Rafael keeps on trucking straight into Liv’s office where he seeks political asylum for the remainder of the morning. Liv tries to get cute with him, citing that her non-extradition policy requires full disclosure on the part of the recipient, which Rafael takes as a personal offense to his law degree and so pleads the fifth out of spite.

Despite his better judgment, Rafael ends up texting Rita about the whole affair. He double checked, it's nothing she can use against him in court, having a puppy crush on a coworker in the legal system. She throws him a “LMAO", some generic words of encouragement, and then says she’s scheduled to appear in court but will follow up. Later in the day, around noon, Rita sends him a link to **Consumer-Voted, Top 10 Romantic Italian Restaurants in NYC!**

Rafael replies, **T** **hanks, I hate it**.

* * *

It's precisely 11:37 at night and Rafael finds that he's still smarting from his earlier blunder. His misguided attempts at flirtation had been buried under paperwork and trial prep for most of the day, and he only finds himself back at SVU by mistake. Fin's mistake, specifically, who swears the file he meant to drop off at the ADA's office is sitting on top of his desk next to the lamp and the pen cup. The office is empty of detectives when Rafael steps off the elevator. He nods cordially to the janitor, makes his way to Fin's desk, and grimaces at the mess that presents itself. 

After a bit of digging and shuffling, Rafael determines that the file is not where it was promised, which he shouldn't find surprising. He's loathe to start digging through Fin's desk for fear of what he might find, so he takes a seat at the chair to mentally prepare himself for the task. It's been a long day, and there's still trial prep to do before arraignment in the morning after sloshing home through dirty, half melted snow. Rafael's been cursing his job more often than he loves it these days. He's got a headache coming on, and he's not sure if its from too much or too little caffeine. 

"In here, Counselor." 

Rafael looks up from pinching his nose. He knows that voice, and it's coming from the open door of a conference room. The lights always seem to be on in this place no matter what the time so Rafael hadn't thought twice about it. If he goes to the conference room with a little pep in his step, he doesn't think twice about that either. 

Carisi is in the conference room hunched over the edge of the table because that's another thing about him, he can't sit in a chair when theres a desk to lean over a table to brace against or a ledge to perch on. Not that Rafael would consider it a negative... At least now he can confirm his theory that with Carisi's long, long legs spread like that in front of a desk, he'd be a comfortable height for fucking in to. 

Thoughts that Rafael should really be leaving at home.

"Counselor?"

"Yes," Rafael replies as nonchalantly as he can. "I'm sorry, long day at the office. You were saying?"

"I said I think I have the file you're looking for," Carisi says with that little grin he gets when he catches a superior officer off guard. He holds up a manilla folder. "Fin's?"

"Right, of course," Rafael says as he shrugs off his coat to drape over a nearby chair. Finally, he gets around to tacking stock of the room as he takes a seat - a proper seat in a proper chair - and starts loosening his cuffs, undoing the buttons around his throat. "What's all this?"

"Just, uh." Carisi waves the folder towards the white board he must have wheeled in from the bullpen. "Thought I'd give the case a once over. Sorry, I meant to have it done before you got here."

"I thought Fin and Rollins were taking point on this." Rafael gives the papers scattered across the table a once over, recognizing Rollins' thoughts in bullet point format, and Fin's trademark lack of notes. 

"Yeah, well." Carisi turns back to the table and starts sweeping up the papers into a haphazard pile, as if he's trying to hide his effort. "Ya know, Rollins is pregnant so Loo sent her home early. On time, rather. And Fin pulled a double shift yesterday so I thought I could help. Or somethin'."

Rafael hums thoughtfully and doesn't mention that he knows for a fact that Carisi worked a double yesterday as well. He lets Carisi fuss over the papers on the table in embarrassment before he turns to the work on the whiteboard.

The writing is messy and the pictures of perp, victim, and crime scene aren't hung parallel with the edges of the whiteboard, but Rafael thinks he sees the rough beginning of a timeline. He tries to hide his smile by rubbing his face like he's exhausted, when in reality he's found one last little boost. "Alright." Rafael finishes rolling up his sleeves before slapping his knees and making a point of sitting up straight. "Walk me through this."

"What?"

"Everything." Rafael motions from the papers on the table to the whiteboard. "From the beginning." 

"Really?" Carisi asks with a snort. "You want my opinion?"

Rafael pretends to seriously consider the merit for a moment. "An outsider's view of the case might prove helpful."

"Really?" Carisi says again. "Counselor, I must be going nuts from lack of sleep, I think you just admitted I'm helpful."

"I said _might_." Rafael clears his throat, props his chin on his fist and fails for casual indifference. He can't help it, the way Carisi is looking at him so hopeful and vulnerable, like Rafael could take the compliment back and bring his world to ruins. He must be having a long day, because whatever gel he puts in his hair has lost most of it's hold. Carisi is all blond curls and pouty bottom lip as he looks at Rafael, just begging for approval with those big brown doe eyes. 

Rafael tries to shift in his seat as casually as possible. Crosses his legs. "Go on," he says, snappier than he meant to. 

"Okay." Carisi pushes himself up off the desk and goes to the whiteboard, holding up the manila folder for reference. "Okay," he says this time with a bit more confidence. He points to the picture of the girl. "Valentina."

Rafael quirks a single, unimpressed eyebrow. 

Carisi pauses for a moment and shakes his head. "Sorry. Our vic, Valentina Rossi. Twenty one, lived in the Bronx, single mother of a five year old, Rebecca. Raised by her grandmother, never knew her father and her mother died from an overdose when she was seven."

Rafael nods once in approval. He already knows all this - he's just curious how well Carisi will present it. 

"She was going to night school for her GED and waitressing at a diner during the day. Which is where she met this scumbag." Carisi's finger moves from Valentina's DMV photo to one of a young white male in a suit. "Reginald Henson. He said Rollins could call him Reggie," he adds with a smirk over his shoulder.

"And this is where my headache begins," Rafael mumbles and rubs his temples.

"Twenty seven and already a senior shareholder at daddy's Fortune 500. Columbia graduate in business, yada yada," Carisi shrugs his shoulders. "Point being, he's the type of boy that's never heard no before." 

"And if you believe the tabloids, his family holds the ear of any politician with a campaign to fund." Rafael lets out his heaviest sigh of the day. "Which, in this rare instance, I do." 

"Exactly, this guy, he's got a rap sheet for assault a mile long, from high school to college to now, and all of it's been swept under the rug." Carisi turns now to his timeline, stabbing at  _September, 2014_. "So Reginald and Valentina meet at her diner sometime in September, and they start a relationship." His fingers flies along the timeline to a spot labeled  _October 2, 2014._ "This is her first ER visit." Carisi taps the medical report tacked below it. "Bruises, black eye. Claims she fell down the stairs. And we have two more reports like that, from October 21st, and November 9th. But those are just hospital visits, friends report seeing Valentina with more minor bruises and injuries, but she always made excuses for them. During this time, Valentina arranged for Rebecca to move in with great grandma for a while."

Rafael nods again. "Did Rebecca ever show signs of injury? Did the teachers notice anything?"

Carisi shakes his head, the only light in this case. 

Now, Carisi moves to the picture of the crime scene - a puddle of blood and signs of a struggle on the floor in her apartment. "Valentina was found by a neighbor who noticed the door was left open on the morning of November 23rd. Found her unconscious on her living room floor, raped with a single head wound that's got her in a coma for the foreseeable future. Working theory is that she tried to break it off with Henson for good, and he snapped."

Rafael pinches the bridge of his nose again. "Which Henson's twenty seven lawyers will argue is impeding their client's right to a speedy trial. They're going to try and push this through to a jury as soon as possible, while their chances are good."

"Yeah, and to complicate things." Carisi moves to the upper right corner of the whiteboard. A mugshot of a Hispanic man, adorned with tattoos and old scars. "She's had known relations with this man, Hector Chavez, local gang member. Rebecca's estranged father. A rap sheet, on file, as long as Henson's. Possession, drugs, guns, assault, the works. Henson's lawyers will present him as an alternative suspect." 

"A credible tactic." Rafael mutters. "What about evidence?"

"We've got Henson's fingerprints all over the apartment and he admits to being there. We've got his hair and DNA in her bed, proves a sexual relationship. And all over her. Unfortunately..." At this, Carisi crosses his arms and shakes his head. "Nothing to prove he raped or beat her up. He could just say she liked it rough, and she isn't there to argue. Also, the last person to have sex with her wore a condom." 

"Doesn't sound like a Henson thing to do."

"Exactly. Valentina was on birth control, and Henson already told us they didn't use condoms. But he could have used one this time just to throw us off."

Rafael shakes his head. "This is good work, Carisi." He takes a mental snapshot of the set up, considers maybe recreating it for the jury when they go to trial. Just to prove the escalation of the abuse. "Unfortunately, it's all circumstantial. A man like Reginald Henson, no way a judge denies bail at arraignment tomorrow."

Then, Carisi does something curious. He positively  _beams._ "Counselor, I wasn't finished."

Rafael feels a fluttering in his chest and quickly stomps it down. "I wasn't made aware of any new evidence."

"Well, this is fresh out of the oven." Carisi's smirk is downright devious. He points to a new name on the whiteboard; "Carmelina Rossi."

"The grandmother?" Rafael frowns and sits up just a bit straighter. "I was told she refused to speak with the Police."

"She refused to speak with Rollins and Fin," Carisi amends. "I was looking over the case earlier tonight, and I saw a note Rollins made." He moves over to the table, shuffling through Rollins' papers until he comes up with her initial notes. "She said she didn't want anything of Valentina's except a necklace she gave her. A bronze coin on a black string."

"Okay, and that helps us how?" Rafael says slowly, eyeing Carisi's excitement with suspicion. 

"I went back to the crime scene." Carisi makes a move for the mess on the table again. From beneath a mountain of paperwork, he produces the necklace in question and puts it down in front of Rafael. "Found it in her jewelry box."

Rafael picks up the evidence bag, turning it over in his hands. It doesn't seem too special, just a small bronze coin, blank on one side with an angel on the other. Obviously old. He looks up at Carisi for clarification.

"On the coin!" Carisi says like it's obvious. "That's St. Michael!" 

Carisi gets another blank look for his efforts. Rafael turns the necklace over in his hand, as if the other side will look different now than it did the first time.

"The patron saint of cops." Carisi explains with exasperation and an eye roll.

"Okay." Rafael sets the necklace back down. "I think I'm seeing something here. That's a weird thing for a cop-hating grandma to give her granddaughter." 

"That's what I thought!" Carisi exclaims. "So, I did some digging, and you know what I found out?" He stabs at the necklace with his finger for emphasis. "Valentina's grandfather, Carmelina's husband, was a New York City cop!"

Rafael is not often caught off guard. Absolutely abhors when it happens. Now, he tries not to let his mouth hang open. "Why didn't this come up in the investigation into her family?"

"Because," Carisi shuffles around some more papers on the table, shoving them towards Rafael. "He was killed in the line of duty before Valentina was born, some random gang shooting. But I dug deeper and made some calls. Word of mouth is, Officer Rossi was  _killed_ by a Detective at his precinct on the order of a politician that he was investigating. It was never proven, but everyone basically knew about it. Too scared to testify."

"So, an Italian immigrant cop is killed by a fellow officer and a corrupt politician," Rafael says slowly. "And half a lifetime later, we send two detectives to ask his widow about the attempted murder of her granddaughter, most likely at the hands of a corrupt businessman and politician."

"Exactly." Carisi says. "She's already lost her husband and her granddaughter. She's probably trying to protect her great granddaughter at this point by keeping quiet. Rebecca is the only family she has left."

"Don't get me wrong, this is a major find." Rafael nods to the necklace. "But, again, circumstantial." 

"But, again," Carisi mimics him. "I wasn't finished."

"Detective Carisi, are you holding out on me?" Rafael is suddenly the furthest thing from exhausted. "Naughty boy." 

But he'll blame that one on the exhaustion anyway.

"After I figured this all out, I went to Carmelina's apartment. Traded in the government suit for my old beat-cop uniform and went to bat my Italian Catholic eyelashes at her." 

"A pity Fin didn't think to try that." Rafael says with a smirk that he doesn't try to hide this time. 

"Well it took a lot of batting," Carisi rolls his eyes, and yes, he does in fact have exquisite eyelashes now that Rafael really looks at them. "But I guess I remind her of her deceased husband. And, after much praying and winning Rebecca's favor," Carisi leans down in his seat, groping through a box Rafael hadn't noticed at first. "I got these." He slaps two evidence bags down onto the table. 

At first Rafael can't believe his eyes. He holds each bag, turns them over in his hands gently. He's holding liquid gold. A prosecutor's wet dream. A bonafide  _deus ex machina._

"Detective Carisi, are these what I think they are?"

Carisi leans back in his chai and crosses his arms in triumph. "Valentina hid these at her grandmother's apartment." Carisi points at the first bag. "Bloody clothes from the last fight that made her decide to leave Henson. I haven't had them tested yet, but Valentina told her grandmother that's her blood and Henson's. Apparently she managed to get a punch in herself. There's also, uh." Carisi gestures toward the bag awkwardly. "Ripped and bloody underwear. Semen. Valentina told her grandmother that Henson raped her on multiple occasions. 

Rafael sets the bag of clothing down gingerly, like the gift from the God's that it is. He holds up the second bag. "And the cell phone?"

"Burner cell." Carisi explains. "Henson bought it for her when they started dating so he could always reach her. It's got a hidden tracking chip in it. Professional grade. And more than twenty threatening voice mails. The first couple are Henson apologizing for hitting Valentina and saying he'll never do it again. And the last are Henson saying that if Valentina leaves him like she's threatening to, Henson will destroy her." Carisi's happiness flags at this, because sometimes they forget that every solved case starts with a victim. "They're pretty graphic," he adds quietly. 

"And her grandmother, Carmelina, had all this?" Rafael asks.

Carisi nods. "Valentina dropped it off the day before she was attacked. She was gathering proof." He goes quiet for a moment then, chewing on his lip. Eventually he says, "Carmelina is willing to testify to it all, too." 

"Carisi this," Rafael is still digesting the miracle he's just been given. "Proof of violence in the relationship.The GPS in the phone is proof of stalking. Proof of violent threats by Henson  _on tape_." He falls back into his chair in disbelief as he takes in all the physical evidence in front of him. "You just handed me arraignment, if not the entire trial, on a silver platter." 

"It was nothing," Carisi says, absentmindedly scratching at his cheek. "But, uh. I guess this is the part where I ask for a favor."

Rafael quirks his eyebrow but says, "Anything."

"I, uh, I sorta promised." Carisi fidgets in his chair, alternating between rubbing his hands together and drumming his fingers against the table top. "I just. I promised Carmelina and Rebecca that we would get this guy."

And that falls on Rafael doing his job. Carisi is rubbing his hands together so fast that he might starts a fire if he doesn't first make a hole in the floor from bouncing his leg. 

Rafael doesn't know what possesses him to do it. But he reaches out, and he puts his hand over both of Carisis's stilling his hands. His leg stops bouncing, and the Detective looks up at him like a deer in headlights. 

"I'll do you better than that." Rafael says without hesitation.

Carisi licks his lips, looks down at his hands then back up at Rafael. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to bring in the whole circus tomorrow at arraignment. Papparazi, reporters, cameras, sketch artists. I'm going to request and I'm going to be granted remand. I'm going to up the charges to assault, rape in the first, and attempted murder. And when I get the conviction that Henson is a sexual abuser, I am going to cite section 22.59 of the Violence Against Women Act, that stipulates that Henson has to pay mandatory restitution to Valentina. His daddy's company is going to be paying for Valentina's medical bills, therapy, living expenses for her grandmother and daughter, Rebecca's college." Rafael lets out a breath. "He will never stop paying for what he's done." 

Carisi smiles. Genuinely, softly smiles. Rafael feels him squeeze his hand. "I believe you," he whispers. 

Rafael is hopelessly, blissfully infatuated from that moment onward. 


	2. Detective Carisi

A mastery of the English language and it's intricacies is a lawyer's best weapon, in Rafael's opinion. Well, an American lawyer, but the same idea applies anywhere. It's about language. It's using words and language to bait suspects and witnesses into losing their cool on the stand, twisting their words and getting them to admit things they didn't mean to. More often than not it's dirty work, but it's done in the name of good and Rafael sleeps just fine at night, refreshed and ready to hit court again in the morning. The courtroom is his kingdom, where he considers himself king, and that little tip in the scales of confidence between himself and a witness on cross examination is what wins most of his cases. It's what separates him, an excellent prosecutor, from law professors. 

Turns out Carisi's got a knack for it too. 

After Carisi just about slam dunks the investigative part of the Reginald Henson case, Rafael finds himself willing to work with him more often. Eventually, bashfully, Carisi admits he's got his eye on Fordham Law, as if Rafael hadn't already guessed. And when he asks to sit in on a few of Rafael's cases, maybe some of his trial prep, he makes sure to bat his Italian Catholic eyelashes. Which certainly affirms Rafael's suspicion that he is helpless against those doe eyes. Now what he needs to determine is whether Carisi is aware of and summarily abusing that power. 

Rafael has a feeling that he is 100% aware and therefore culpable. Adorable bastard. 

Nonetheless, he opens his door (and maybe a little of his heart) to Carisi, and he becomes a usual face around the office. At first Carisi would hide in his shadow at the precinct, when Rafael came down to discuss an ongoing investigation with Liv and offer his input. When that becomes a little annoying, Rafael invites Carisi to his office at 1 Hogan Place to sit in (quietly, Detective, not a peep out of you) on his trial prep. Carisi arrives ten minutes early with cannolis meant to butter up Carmen, which works like a charm. Before Rafael knows it, Carmen is giving Carisi free reign of the place, waving him past to burst into Rafael's office, cheery and very much so unannounced whenever he's got free time and a thirst for knowledge.

The first three times Rafael is annoyed and offended on principle. After that, it's an expected surprise that he almost looks forward to. It almost feels like dating, once he allows Carisi to speak in his presence. They talk largely about work, as the first date often goes, before Carisi starts inserting jokes. Rafael will sprinlle on a hint of sarcasm and jabbing remarks, and Carisi will laugh and tell him a funny story from work or his weekend. Sometimes Carmen will order them both Chinese food for lunch with extra cream cheese wontons if Rafael is on his best behavior during their playdate. 

Obviously it's never a proper date, because Rafael has oodles of excuses as to why it shouldn't be. For one, his bisexuality would make Freddie Mercury proud, but Carisi has yet to drop any such hints about himself. And Rafael's not one to ask. Second, at the moment he's quite content to lose himself in his covetous daydreams of Carisi rather than make the wrong move and ruin whatever unsaid thing hangs between them. Because something is definitely there. That, and if they were to ever start dating properly, Rafael dreads the amount of paperwork that comes with professional/romantic nondisclosures. His head is still reeling from the mountains of forms he had to fill out for his transfer from King's County to Manhattan. 

So, for now, Rafael is content. Content to work late into the night with Carisi on trial prep, and content to appreciate when Carisi's schedule allows for him to sit next to Rafael at the prosecutor's table at court. 

Carisi just happens to be sitting in on a case with Rafael when everything goes south faster than old people to Florida. 

Rafael can't expect Liv to be bringing him airtight cases every time. It's appreciated, sure, but the very nature of sex crimes makes it' a near impossibility. And it's fine if a case isn't airtight, but he'd at least prefer something vaguely  _waterproof_. Which he most certainly  _does not have_ and was most certainly  _not warned about_ before taking this boat to sea. 

"Liv, you knew about this? You knew about this, and you didn't think it pertinent to mention to me?" 

They're speaking in their go-to unhappy place, between the elevators and the bathroom in the hallway outside of the courtroom where Rafael is doing his best to contain a legal dumpster fire. He's angry, ever so angry, but trying his best to keep his voice low yet suggestively venomous. And to make matters worse, Liv's got her hands out, palms down like she's trying to soothe a spooked victim. 

"I'm sorry, I should have told you. But I wanted to give you plausible deniability." Liv says like it's a legitimate explanation. "And I was worried that it might influence your decision to bring this to a jury," she admits much, much more hesitantly. 

"Apologies didn't un-sink the Titanic, Liv. And for the record, yes, it would have made me think twice!" Rafael hisses back. It catches the ear of a nearby man headed for the bathroom, so he turns on his heel and stalks further down the hall, expecting Liv to follow him. "Because now the case is shot! The confession is out! And what's more is 1PP will come down on the both of us so fast. There will be injunctions. Investigations. Once the press catches wind of 'police brutality', they will bring the fire and rest assured that the heats going to be on us." 

"Then win the case." Liv implores him because oh, he hadn't thought of that himself, what a simple solution. "Get this guy. Prove he's a rapist and a liar and the heat will disappear." 

"We must live in separate worlds, Liv, because yours sounds much simpler than mine." 

"Look. I get it, Amaro was heavy handed with interrogating this guy." Liv says with a sigh. "I take full responsibility for that, and I will deal with him. But that doesn't change the fact that Berk seduces married women. Steals from them, rapes them, beats them, and then uses the affair to blackmail them into silence. Now, he already admitted to an affair and blackmailing with Alexis Remar, it's got to be something. " 

"Yes, well," Rafael takes a breath here, visibly tries to reign in his anger and attitude. "That's a nice little list, Liv. But now he's the one playing victim, and it convinced the judge to throw out his  _forced confession._ My hands are tied, I can't bring up the affair unless he opens the door on the stand, and by now he's had plenty of coaching from his lawyer to know better." 

"Rafael," Liv pleads, actually pleads, as if Rafael is holding back on purpose. "I will get everyone out there to find you more evidence. I will talk to Amaro. But please, don't drop the case yet." 

"Liv, even if I don't drop the charges the defense could move for a dismissal. That confession was one of our very few, very shaky legs, holding up this case. And none of the previous victims that we know of is willing to testify, including Alexis Remar." 

"Please, Rafael. If we drop the charges he could be out of the country by dinner." 

Rafael's never been accused of having a bleeding heart. The logical thing to do now is to bite his tongue and drop the charges. No, it's not about his win-lose ratio or his pride. It's about double jeopardy. It's about doing the smart thing here. Tell her no, Rafael thinks to himself.

"Get. Everyone. Out. There. Find me something. I'll stall as best I can." 

Liv doesn't test her luck with a thank you. She just nods, once, and starts walking towards the elevator. She whips her phone out, barking orders and demanding for Amaro "in my office, yesterday" before she smarts mashing the elevator button. 

When the elevator dings and Liv starts heading down, the second one arrives coming up, and Carisi steps out. 

It's like trading a gunshot for a stab wound, but Barba will take that trade. 

"Hey, Counselor, sorry I'm late." Carisi is breathing heavy, having literally run here from another case he was doing the legwork on this morning. "I got the rundown from Rollins, what's the plan?"

"The plan is that-" Rafael checks his watch, "I go back in there for cross examination in five minutes and hope for a miracle." 

"I can pray if you really want me too, but I was hoping for something more aggressive." Carisi frowns. 

"No offense, Carisi." Rafael pinches the bridge of his nose. "But the last thing this case needs right now is another  _detective_."

"Oh, you don't mean that." Carisis replies good-naturedly. What a trooper. "What happened to Booyah Fordham Law?"

Rafael closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

"So, should I get on my knees and start praying for that miracle, or do you lawyers have a special room for that?" 

"Are you here to help or not?" Rafael grinds out, not appreciating having the sass thrown back in his face like that. Under any other circumstance, he'd be trying to hide the stirring interest between his legs at the thought of Carisis on his knees just for him. It's only adding insult to injury that he can't fully appreciate the mental picture at the moment. 

"I serve at your pleasure, Counselor." Carisis says with a little eyebrow wiggle, and he definitely knows what he's doing, the little shit. 

"Well the confession is out." Rafael sighs. "We need him to somehow admit it on the stand. I've got to get under his skin, trick him into opening the door-"

"So we can kick it in."

Rafael nods. He's done it before. But this, this one will be hard. He can't help but curse his luck. "Of course Amaro has to go around being the Protector of All Women." 

"Protector of All Women," Carisi echoes slowly, and he starts to zone out staring at the wall. "Protector of All Women," he repeats. 

"Yes, that's what I said."

"No, no that's not it, uh," Carisi grabs for Rafael's armful of notes. "Let me," he starts shuffling through them, rearranging his carefully organized papers and even dropping some on the ground.

"Carisi what are you-"

"Here, the letters," Carisi says, finding a stapled together packet of love letters Berk had exchanged with his multiple women during their affairs that the detectives had gathered. "The letters. The women." 

"Yes, the ones that Berk never signs with his name and denies writing." Rafael rolls his eyes. He's getting another headache, could use another espresso. 

"No, it's how he addresses the women in the letters." Carisi says, flipping through the letters. "Alexis, Lexi. Emily, Em. Lillian, Lil. Ariana, Ari." 

"Yes, pet names. Very cute, not helpful." Rafael grinds out. 

"Yes, they are. None of the victim's husbands or family members call them these names." Carisi dumps the files back into Rafael's hands. "Look, this guy, he sees women as property, right? He seduces them, they belong to him. Their money is his, their body is his."

"Okay."

"So, when Nick was first interrogating this guy, he started getting all up in Berk's face about how he treats the women. How he's trash and they deserve better. Amaro was challenging his right to own these women." 

Rafael nods. "Can't say I understand, but I follow. Go on."

"So, that's what got Berk worked up. That's why they started fighting in interrogation. That's what gets under his skin. Now, he admits to knowing these women, but not the affairs. And you've been referring to the women by their last names."

Carisi's plan begins to dawn on him with beautiful, live-saving clarity. "And these nicknames... These are Berk's names for these women. That only he uses." 

"And if another man were to start calling the women by his names, that might just piss him off enough." Carisi finishes with a grin. "Boom, miracle." 

"Detective Carisi," Rafael says with a smirk. " Detective Carisi, I might make a lawyer out of you yet." 

Court reconvenes and Rafael Barba does what he does best - get's choked by a violent sex offender in front of a full courtroom. In his defense, he hadn't expected a man of Berk's average height to be able to clear the witness stand in one leap, but apparently rage will motivate a man. He's lucky Carisi can clear the prosecutor's table just as fast and turn the courtroom into a WWE SmackDown. 

Even luckier is that the subsequent conviction that Rafael gets is the perfect excuse to invite Carisi out to dinner. His treat, as a thank you for the insight that made the case. 

When Carisi happens to pick one of the restaurants off a list he found online - "Consumer-Voted Top 10 somethin' or other," he'd said - Rafael nearly chokes.

Again, despite his better judgement, Rafael texts Rita about it. She replies quickly and smugly.  **Do you have a hat to start eating?**

Rafael's got three different colored bow ties to mull over but he manages to shoot a quick reply:  **Don't want to spoil my appetite.**

* * *

That dinner was a month ago, and since then Carisi has found Rafael tolerable enough to join him for drinks on six separate occasions outside of their usual lawyer-mentorship-junior-program. It had gone pleasantly; Rafael had heard new stories about Carisi's family, about his time growing up and a bit about college. During dinner, Rafael happens to hit a gold nugget of information when Carisi briefly mentions an old college boyfriend who once did something funny and maybe illegal possibly with a Police Car most likely while intoxicated, Rafael wasn't really paying attention past the word "boyfriend". But because Carisi doesn't make a big deal of it, neither does Rafael. 

He doesn't get the chance to give Carisi a goodnight kiss on the stoop, but he considers the night a win overall. 

But it's because of the dinner, and because the Carisi family never lets a favor go unreturned, that Rafael gets invited to a Carisi family BBQ on Staten Island. Carisi mentions it casually over their morning coffee and trial prep, and the invite is so harmless and nonchalant that Rafael agrees without thinking of the implications, which is drastically unlike him. It's a family and friends thing, this Saturday afternoon, casual dress (I'm serious Barba, if you show up in a suit I'm going to throw lambchops at you). It sounds wholly innocuous and even if Rafael had reservations they get buried under a big case that hits the Unit on Thursday evening, Carisi especially. Carisi especially, because like Rafael he has a suicidal streak a mile long and an insatiable passion for undercover work. 

Which is how a beautiful Saturday morning rolls around and finds them both late to the BBQ and Carisi in a mesh tank top and men's booty shorts. 

"It's fine," Carisi says over his shoulder as he wrestles a collared perp into the back of a squad car, as if they hadn't just busted a brothel full of grossly underage male prostitutes and the several handfuls of men they cater to. "We can just go straight there, I've got some old clothes at Ma's." 

"Carisi," Rafael gently removes his sunglasses and tucks them into the neck of his polo. He technically doesn't have to be here for the collar, just arraignment on Monday, but Liv had said Carisi would be undercover longer than expected and they were going to sweep the brothel in about two hours if he wanted to ride along for the fun. "I'm not going to be seen on the Staten Island Ferry with you looking like," he gestures to Carisi as a whole. "That". 

Carisi frowns as he slams the door and raps the top of the squad car. He catches a glimpse of himself in the window as the car takes off towards the precinct, Johns on board. "Hey, Rollins!" He calls out and waves to her as she shoves her own collars into the back of another car. "You got any baby wipes?" He shouts across the crime scene, gesturing to his face and the smudged eyeliner and mascara that made him look sloppy, but underage enough to work at the brothel they just busted.

Rollins throws up her arms and makes a face like she can't believe Carisi is asking her that, which, to be fair, is the face that everyone who hears the question makes, including Rafael. Fin shakes his head at the both of them from the porch of the house. 

"I'll give you a ride to your place so you can pick up some clothes." Rafael leans in, making a show of taking a whiff and screwing up his face when he does. "And a shower." 

Carisi gives himself an experimental sniff and deems it passable for mass transportation. "Come on, we're already late. I'll put on a jacket, how about that?" 

A jacket may cover Carisi's perky nipples (it's a beautiful but chilly Saturday for anyone wearing mesh apparently), but that doesn't solve the problem of his booty shorts and legs, which he'd shaved to further his disguise of being younger than he is. 

"Carisi," Rafael groans this time and gently massages his temples. "I'm not going to meet your parents for the first time with you dressed as an underage prostitute." 

"I think it would be a good conversation starter," Liv offers casually from somewhere behind them. She appears busy overseeing the operation and signing off on paperwork, but apparently not busy enough to keep her opinion to herself. "Either way, run along Carisi. The paperwork will be here when you get back." She waves them both off before her attention is required elsewhere.

"So, you're meeting my parents?" Carisi asks with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. 

" _Detective Carisi_." Rafael grinds out warningly. 

"Fine, fine. But don't complain to me if my sisters' stupid boyfriends eat the best cuts."  

It doesn't go quite as Rafael had planned, but he ends up driving the both of them from the crime scene to Carisi's apartment. He gets the strangest, most humiliating looks in the short walk from where he parked his car to Carisi's building, but at least now Carisi's got his Detective Shield hanging from his throat in plain view, so it's not as weird and illegal as it absolutely, 100%, undeniably looks. 

"I'm gonna hop in the shower, pick me out somethin', will ya?"

Rafael had chosen a dull, light green polo and fitted jeans for himself, and since Carisi hadn't complained upon seeing him at the bust (not that he was in a position to judge in his  _booty shorts_ ), he picks out something similar for Carisi. Some nice dark jeans and a respectable looking button down. He's pleasantly surprised to find Carisi's apartment clean and well decorated. It's got a homey feel to it, which Rafael suspects is due largely to Carisi's sisters and mother, and the only messy spot is the dining table where Carisi keeps his textbooks and homework from law school. 

Rafael takes a spot on the couch, "Bella, Teresa, Gina," he reminds himself. From the bedroom he can hear the shower shutting off and the sound of Carisi fumbling for a towel, followed shortly by the apartment-shaking thud of 200 pounds of all elbows and knees hitting the ground.

"Barba! Barba, I think I broke my tailbone! Call Loo! Call Fin! Anyone!"

Rafael pinches his nose again. "Bella, Teresa, Gina," he says, more like a prayer for sanity this time. 

Rafael doesn't know how he made it made happen, but they arrive at the Carisi residence just after 1:30. It's a quant little house that Rafael can't imagine raising four children in, especially considering one of them is Dominick Carisi Jr. Rafael parks his car a bit down the street and actually chuckles when he sees balloons tied to the mailbox.

"Come on," Carisi says, looking smart and sexy in the outfit Rafael chose, as he leads Rafael along the side of the house to the backyard and the sounds of a party. 

As soon as Carisi is in full view of all the neighbors, friends, and family gathered for the barbecue, Rafael is physical shaken by the collective shout of "Sonny!" that erupts from the crowd. 

Huh, guess people actually do call him that. 

Carisi responds with similar enthusiasm, as if he hadn't spent all night disguised as a teenage prostitute avoiding the grabby hands of older men. He meets every person with charm and his trademark smile. Rafael abstains when Carisi immediately makes a bee-line for the baby cousins, all of whom are either drooling, screaming, or slapping around in the mud. Or some gross combination of all three. Blessedly, Carisi doesn't try to drag him with, Rafael wouldn't know paternal instinct if it suplexed him in the middle of Central Park. The only child he will halfwillingly interact with is Noah. And even then, he handles Noah the same way he might handle a baby alligator - at arms length, and very, very hesitantly. 

Luckily, Rafael isn't left to twiddle his thumbs for too long before a woman makes her way to him. Bella, the oldest sister, who he recognizes from their last encounter under unfortunate circumstances. That, and her belly. Going on seven months, if he recalls correctly. 

"Counselor," she says cordially, extending one hand to shake and a cold beer in the other. 

"Rafael, please," he corrects her and takes the beer with a smile. "You look amazing, Bella. How are you?"

"Miserable," she replies with a smile. "Being pregnant is a bitch."

"My sympathies. But, I've been told it's worth it in the end."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Is that him!" Another girl pops up from behind Bella, younger but strikingly similar in appearance. "Oh, he is cute," she coos, giving Rafael a blatant once over. "And a district attorney?" She nods. Approvingly, Rafael hopes. "Intelligent, cute, well dressed. Classic Sonny."

"Down, girl," Bella scolds her. "I'm sorry, this is Teresa, the middle. She was raised in a barn." 

Before Rafael can stammer out an appropriate reply, a third girl, just as similar but a bit younger, pops out from behind Teresa. Rafael is distantly reminded of those Russian dolls that open up to contain identical but smaller dolls.

"Oh, he is cute. And a district attorney?" This one says with big eyes reminiscent of Carisi, but not nearly as doe-ish. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather trade up for me?" 

"And this," Bella reaches backward, grabbing the third sister around the neck before yanking her forward. "This one is Gina, our youngest. She was a cheap freebie in a cereal box. Ignore anything she says, she's always been bitter that Sonny is mom's favorite." 

"Absolutely charmed," Rafael responds, gently nodding to Gina who pretends to swoon into Teresa's arms.

Carisi reappears at that moment. "Hey, what're we talking about?" he asks, gently tucking his shirt back into his jeans. His hair is all over the place, as if little hands have been grabbing at it. 

"How Rafael is leaving you for me." Gina quips.

"How you're mom's favorite." Teresa amends. 

"Why? Because you're the only son?" Rafael asks and takes a sip of his beer. 

"No," Bella interjects. "Because his conception was apparently easier than the rest of ours."

"Oh, my god, Bells." Carisi screws up his face. "That's disgusting."

"Mom and Dad told me all about it in graphic detail when they found out I was pregnant."

"I desire death." Teresa interjects, putting her hands over her face. 

"Get in line," Carisi mumbles. He turns to Gina, pointing an accusing finger. "Either way, hands off."

Gina sticks out her tongue from where she's hiding behind Teresa. "You don't tell me what to do."

"I swear to God, Gina. I know where you hide your diary." 

"Both of you!" Bella tries, and fails, to get between them. 

"Your last name sounds like 'greasy' and you grow a bad beard!" Gina yells back, pushing her brother's shoulder. 

"We have the same last name!" 

" _Detective Carisi._ " Rafael interrupts using his most reprimanding tone, as if this isn't the most fun he's had all week. "Be nice to your sister." 

Carisi opens his mouth to argue but when Rafael quirks an eyebrow at him, he lets it click shut. Instead he stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks at the ground, eyeing his baby sister. 

"That was kinda sexy." Gina says honestly without her teasing tone from before. "Does he call you that in the bedroom too?" 

"And that's a wrap!" Bella yells, loudly, to drown out whatever Carisis starts spluttering in reply. She grabs Gina by the ear, tugging her back in the direction of the crowd. "Sonny, make sure to bring Rafael around to mom and dad, they've been looking forward to this!"

Rafael nonchalantly considers his beer bottle as he waits for Carisi to calm down. Carisi's got both hands on his head, his eyes wide and his face an adorable pink. "Oh, my God, my sisters just outed me to my crush." Carisi says more to himself than Rafael. "I can't believe I showered for _this_."

"Hm," Rafael says. He sips his beer. "Does it bother you? Detective Carisi?"

"What?" Carisi says as if his encounter with his sisters is still causing him physical pain. 

"That I call you that? Should I call you Sonny? Dominick?" He turns to look at Carisi as he thinks aloud.

"You can call me whatever," Carisi mumbles back. "I only get called Dominick when I'm in for a lecture from ma, though."

Rafael hums. "Sonny, then. Outside of work." He finally decides. "I can't be calling you Detective Carisi when I meet your parents. Might send mixed messages." Rafael takes another swallow of beer.

There's silence from beside him for a bit. Sonny is back to gently kicking at the ground, pointedly not making eye contact. "Mixed messages, huh?"

"Sonny it is." Rafael repeats. " _Mi cariño_."

"I took French and Latin in school."

Rafael shrugs and takes one last sip from his beer. He offers it to Sonny, who shakes his head. "I'm sure you can figure it out, detective. Bring on the parents, would you? Before I get drunk."

Sonny smirks and scrubs a hand over his face, shakes some of the jitters from his fingers. "Right this way, Rafael." 


	3. Lose The Battle, Win The War

Sonny hasn’t got an evil bone in his body. Despite his passionate Catholicism, Rafael thanks God that Sonny doesn’t believe in abstinence till marriage, and so has become intimately acquainted with Sonny’s person in every way. Not a whisper of malcontent or a shadow of bitterness. Sure, Sonny has roughed up a child offender when they resist arrest, but that’s the extent of his rage. There are hints, sometimes. Flashes of frustration and carefully contained rage behind those big, beautiful eyes. But nothing near Amaro’s level. Insults and hurts roll off Sonny’s back like drops of sweat during sex. Perhaps the metaphor is a bit over the top, but in Rafael’s defense the relationship is still exhilaratingly fresh and makes him want to squeal like a child. 

Point being, Sonny is a gentle, Catholic soul made of mush, sugar, and puppy dog eyes. 

So it makes sense to Rafael when their first fight as a couple is more like a Cold War than an actual fight. 

Rafael’s always been told that the first fight between a couple is one of the most important. You won’t remember why or what, but supposedly you both come out of the fight with a greater sense of who you are as a unit, and more in love than ever. 

Which is absolute ass, for the record.

Rafael remembers every bit about the first fight he and Sonny have because it is so absolutely _ridiculous_ and entirely Sonny’s fault. Okay, maybe 70/30. Maybe 60/40. The point is, Sonny’s benevolent heart turns their first fight into an unspoken thing. All Rafael knows is that on one Thursday, Sonny starts ducking their lunch dates, their trial prep practice, whatever long-standing appointments they hold, Sonny’s suddenly got an excuse to get around it. And Rafael believes it for the first few days, but then Sonny starts ignoring his messages when Rafael _can see him_  from behind Liv’s closed window blinds, reading his texts before putting his phone back on his desk, face down, with a pinched looking face. 

“You cut that out,” Liv had said, tossing a ballpoint at the back of Rafael’s head. “Just ask him what's wrong.”

Rafael, true to character, does not ask Sonny anything, because he doesn’t feel like he should have to go fishing for whatever imagined slight Sonny has taken offense to. So he starts ignoring Sonny back. Liv tells him it’s impossible to ignore someone who started ignoring you first, but by God, Rafael will do it or die trying. His eyes sweep over Sonny whenever they’re in the same room, when he asks the unit for details on a new case he pointedly does not ask Sonny. Eventually things get so tense that even Fin can’t ignore it anymore. The next day, Rafael sees Detective Tutuola pushing Rollins towards him while he stays safely hidden behind a manila folder that Rafael knows is empty because he’s got the contents spread out in front of him.

”Talk to him.” Rollins hisses at Rafael, bumping shoulders with him in a comradely manner. “Because we can’t take the moping anymore. From either of you.”

”And, pray tell,” Rafael glares at the paperwork in front of him all the harder, most certainly not noticing the way Sonny is sitting at his desk with his head down out of the corner of his eye. “What should I talk to him about?”

”The party,” Rollins says with an eye roll, like it should be obvious. “He thinks he’s not good enough for you because you’re trying to go all _Pretty Woman_ on him.” 

Rollins scurries off after that, as if this conversation has emotionally drained her for the day, leaving Rafael to his paper trail and the fuzzy outline of Sonny in his periphery. Yes, he’s seen the movie. And yes, everything now falls into place. The party being the Governer’s fundraiser banquet, and _Pretty Woman_  being about Rafael’s strongly worded opinions on how Sonny dresses and how he intended to take him shopping for a “proper black tie”. Rafael sees where he might have maybe gone wrong now. 

Rafael goes out for lunch and comes back with Pad Thai and a Vietnamese iced coffee for Sonny. He drops the entire take out bag on the corner of Sonny’s desk, and drags Fin’s chair from the next desk over. Fin looks miffed, seeing as he was about three feet from it with his own takeout, but the whole talking thing was his idea anyhow, so Rafael pays it no mind. 

Sonny looks at Rafael, his face neutral, before there’s a final shrug of his shoulders. A carefully practiced show of nonchalance, Rafael knows it when he sees it, and Sonny reaches for the iced coffee first. 

“You don’t have to go to the banquet if you don’t want to,” Rafael comments casually. He reaches for the coffee while Sonny snaps his chopsticks.

”I don’t.” Sonny replies blankly, and slaps the top of Rafael’s hand to defend his drink. “And I won’t.”

”Okay. And, uh. Do you want to talk about it?” Rafael leans back in his chair, folds his hands. Tries to approach this the way he would approach a suspect, if only for the sake of keeping his cool. “I know you might be thinking that I look down on you or-“

”I don’t want to talk.” Sonny says, firmly. Perhaps a little harshly.

Rafael waits for a follow up and when nothing comes he starts to stand. “Okay, I understand.”

”I don’t want to talk about _that_.”

Slowly, Rafael sits back down. “Okay. What would you like to talk about?”

”Supposed to be nice out this weekend.” Sonny says around a mouthful of noodles. “I want to go to Central Park. Walk around. Eat a pretzel or something from The Halal Guys.”

Rafael nods, more to himself than Sonny. He weighs the weight of his replies in his head, and figures he's worked his way back into Sonny’s good graces. At least, enough so that he can act like himself again.

“I’ll try to pencil you in.” He swipes a noodle with his bare fingers. Sonny grew up with three sisters and is therefore quite skilled at defending his food. Rafael takes the noodle as confirmation of their truce, for now. 

Sonny rolls his eyes. “Apology accepted, by the way,” he says, waving his chopsticks over his noodles. 

Rafael nods, owning his admission of guilt with silence. He might be a little offended that Sonny hasn’t apologized himself, or admitted that he should have told Rafael he was offended by Rafael’s opinion of his clothing in the first place. Nevertheless, Rafael may not know everything, but he certainly knows that that’s not something you can force someone to do or say. So he just leans back and smiles, a weight suddenly off his shoulders that he wasn’t aware he’d been carrying.

That's a lie, Rafael had been very painfully aware.

Maybe Sonny won’t talk to him about the bigger problem, but at least they’re talking. Lose the battle, win the war. 

Ironically, that’s the mindset that starts their second fight. “The big nasty” is what Bella calls it, because she hears about it plenty over the phone and loves to bring it up to Sonny when he gets on her case about what a ridiculous fight she’s having with Tommy that week. 

Rafael isn’t sure if the fight started in their personal or professional relationship, but, like everything else in their lives, it permeates both. 

Three days after the Carisi Family BBQ, Sonny and Rafael celebrate the beginning of a beautiful relationship by slaving over the appropriate paperwork. There are sarcastic toasts all around the bullpen, and once Fin realizes he can pawn off all his case file deliveries on Sonny, there are some honest ones too. That night, Rafael pulls Sonny into his car by his necktie and later throws him down onto his mattress by the wrinkled collar of his dress shirt. Three hours later they reheat pizza from Rafael’s fridge and discuss their boundaries. At length.

Although, neither of them ever bring up the fact that there are zero (0) boundaries. 

And that’s really the universe’s fault, because it made Rafael into a professional mentor before a boyfriend. The reason that Rafael didn't demand an apology during their first fight was because he realized Sonny's offense had honest merit. Maybe he was trying to  _Pretty Woman_ his boyfriend a little bit. Sonny wanted to be a lawyer, and Rafael wanted him to be successful, that was all. He wanted Sonny to learn to act like a top prosecutor (or defense lawyer, God forbid). How to dress like it, how to rub elbows like it. He wanted to give Sonny the best connection, the best ins to the business if he wanted to work for the DA's office someday. And, yes, maybe in his haste to groom Sonny into the best that Rafael knows he could be, he'd forgotten who Sonny is at his core. That was his misstep; You can't change a person at their core. 

For example, Rafael is a prosecutor first and foremost, he can’t separate that from any other part of his life. Just like how Sonny can’t stop being a cop, being himself, even in the bedroom. (Seriously, he can’t. When Rafael initiates dirty talk by commenting on how lovely he finds Sonny’s cock, Sonny replies “Thanks, grew it myself!” and nearly ruins the entire evening.)

The point in it all being that even if they call each other “Detective” and “Counselor” in the field, Rafael and Sonny never stop being in love. And because Rafael loves Sonny, he will keep telling him things he doesn't want to hear, keeping opening his eyes into what it means to be a lawyer. Sometimes he's hard on Sonny, but Rafael only wants to give him the sharpest, strongest tools, because he has no doubt that Sonny will use them for good because he hasn't got an evil bone in his body. 

So, it only makes sense, that sometimes they both take things personally. 

* * *

Lose the battle, win the war. It's the hardest thing to say, the biggest pill to swallow, the sharpest stick up the ass. It's a life lesson that Rafael learned early in life, being the textbook underdog that he was. Lose the battle, win the war, he'd tell himself when someone threw rocks at him on his way home from school because he's an egghead with a smart ass and a smart mouth in the South Bronx. Lose the battle, win the war, he tells himself when a blond guy in a Vineyard Vines polo whispers "affirmative action" at him when they're partnered together for a mock debate exercise during his first day at Harvard. Rafael looked him up sometime after transferring to SVU- he's making the rounds in divorce court these days. 

"Lose the battle, win the war," Rafael tells Liv and Sonny outside of interrogation, bracing himself for the blowback.

Pardon, Liv and Detective Carisi. 

"Lose the battle, win the war?" Liv parrots back at him, with all the disbelief and anger that Rafael had grit his teeth against. Liv has heard this from Rafael a hundred times and maybe a hundred more from the ADA's that came before him in her many years at SVU. Yet Liv never fails to act like every time is the first time. With all the surprise and outrage, too. "This isn't losing a battle, this is letting a child molester  _walk_."

"Walk is generous." Rafael says back, rapping his knuckles on the the top of Liv's desk. "I'd use crawl."

Liv fixes him with a look, Rafael pretends he doesn't see the same one on Sonny's face. "And," Rafael goes on, "the case against Kern is muddy, at best." 

"And she's going to walk." Liv repeats, ignoring Rafael's last comment in the way she knows drives him nuts. "Michelle Kern may have been a victim of sex abuse as a child, and I admit she needs help more than punishment, but she can't just walk like this. She molested her niece. Could have molested any of her students." 

"You said it yourself, she's a victim." Rafael responds, rapping his knuckles again. Pacing around Liv's desk. "The jury will see a woman, raped by her father her whole life, who claims she was just being a loving aunt. An attentive, invested teacher." 

"What about the kiddie porn on her laptop?" Sonny cuts in as gently as possible. To be honest, Rafael had almost forgotten he was here - it's so easy to fall into this back and forth like old times. It's like they have a relationship of their own, he and Liv. 

"I can charge her with possession." Rafael responds, not liking the look Sonny's got in his eyes. The look that usually means Sonny is about to get whatever he asks for with those pouty lips. "Distribution  _at most_. Which hardly seems smart, considering she's willing to plead down and give us  _producers_." 

"Get the producers without the plead," Liv says, ever the deliverer of good plans. 

"Isn't that your job?" Rafael bites back. Not smartly, but in his opinion, truthfully. 

Liv must agree, because she gets that real pinched, real angry look and shakes her head like she might deck him. Blissfully, Rollins takes that moment to knock. "Got somethin'," she says, taking a look around the room. "Am I interruptin' something?"

"No," Liv grinds out, positively glaring at Rafael when she does. "I'll be back." 

Rafael watches her go and feels a bit of his headache go with her. He loves her, he does. He'll take any fight with Liv because that combative nature is what makes her fight for every victim, and that's what makes her the best, in his esteemed opinion. 

Silence hangs in the room for a bit, hand in hand with tension and anger and all sorts of unspoken, heavy things. Eventually Sonny can't hold it in anymore. "Raf."

"Detective Carisi," Rafael gently reminds him. 

"Counselor," Sonny tries again. "You can't be serious."

"Deathly," Rafael responds with a detached huff. "Lose the battle, win the war. It's something you should know by now." 

"You're going to let a child molester back on the streets." Sonny says like he needs clarification, which isn't right since he's been outside the two-way mirror this entire time. "Back to her job as a teacher. Where she's got access to victims." 

Rafael sighs. Groans, whatever. He pinches the bridge of his nose; He hasn't slept a lot this week and it's only Tuesday. "I'm not just letting her back on the street, Carisi. She'll go to counseling, she'll lose her job-" 

"Will she go to jail?" 

Rafael shakes his head. Purses his lips, looks down at his shoes. Pointedly doesn't answer. 

"Raf," Sonny whispers it this time. "Don't plead it out. Please. Trick her. Get her to give us the producers without letting her out of jail time. Do something. Anything."

"Sonny," Rafael leans against Liv's desk and clasps his hands in front of himself. He peers at Michelle Kern on the other side of the glass with her defense lawyer. She's pretty. Petite brunette in yoga pants. Soft spoken and painfully arrogant. "Being a lawyer means losing battles."

"And winning wars, yeah, I heard you the first time." Sonny physically waves the phrase aside like a bad smell. "Does that mean giving up and rolling over?"

"That's what you think this is?" It's Rafael's turn to sound surprised. "Rolling over?"

"Yes. No!" Sonny throws up his arms. "I don't know, Raf! Don't let this woman plead down! She's taunting us! She's literally in there laughing at us!" He gestures wildly with his arms and yes, Rafael sees that Michelle Kern is in fact smirking at the glass as if she can see them. As if she knows they're fighting. "She's a child molester and a psychopath!" 

"And she can give us producers of child porn!" 

"Give us time!" Sonny yells, and Rafael is glad that Liv slammed the door on her way out because they'd be attracting stares if she hadn't. "We will use her laptop, track her movements, her communications, we can find them on our own!" 

"You can't know that!" Rafael yells, pointing a finger at Sonny that he swears isn't meant to be accusing. 

"Nice." Sonny snorts and starts pacing the length of the room. "Nice to hear you have some faith in me as a detective."

"Oh, like the faith you have in me as a prosecutor?" Rafael isn't even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. The opposite, rather, he's hoping it bites as hard as he means it to. "You know, sometimes we do things we don't want to for the bigger picture, Sonny."

"If this is what it means to be a prosecutor," Sonny gestures vaguely towards Rafael, and the meaning of "this" is not lost. "Then you can count me out." 

Rafael pretends that doesn't hurt him in ways that nothing else could. But it must show on his face in somehow, perhaps a too-long blink or a twitch of his lips because Sonny flinches like he was the one struck. He's got a face like an apology is just behind his lips.

He must be too mad to actually say it.

There's a knock on the mirror and both Rafael and Sonny visibly startle. It's Michelle Kern's defense lawyer, crooking her finger at them even though she can't see them. They're ready to talk. To deal. 

Rafael's already got one hand on the door into interrogation before he realizes Sonny isn't moving to follow him. "You coming with me?" He asks.

Sonny's got one arm braced against the window, his eyes burning rage. He doesn't answer, no recognition of what Rafael had said. And Rafael knows that he always speaks very, very clearly. 

"On my own then," he mutters angrily to himself as he swings the door open. 

Rafael goes into interrogation, without Sonny, and makes the deal. Gets two names and an address in twenty minutes. On his way out, Liv is sitting at her desk, her hands folded and her head down, Sonny nowhere to be seen. Rafael is nothing if not her friend, so he gently puts a hand on her shoulder. A silent question. They've always had their own little language, very cute. 

"TARU tried to get into her laptop." Liv says with her head still down. "They triggered a failsafe that wiped her entire hard drive. Can't be recovered."

Rafael isn't so cruel as to gloat. Another time there might have been the smallest inkling of pride deep in his heart, but right now all he feels is an aching emptiness where Sonny accidentally sucker punched him. He takes out the piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and drops it on Liv's desk, tapping it twice.

"Buck up," He says as he strides out of her office, buttoning his suit jacket like he's approaching cross examination. "Let's go win a war."

Rafael doesn't blame Sonny. Cross his heart and hope to die, Rafael's still got a heart despite law school. It might not be a bleeding heart like Liv's or Sonny's, but it's a heart nonetheless, and it beats just the same. For victims, for justice. For Sonny, most recently. It's sappy and gross, but this fight, the second fight, is what makes Rafael realize he loves Dominick Carisi Jr. 

Guess that post fight clarity he was told about wasn't all a load of ass. In fact, it turns out to be mostly true.

Because the second Rafael see's Sonny running out of that warehouse basement, he forgets why they were fighting. He's taking the steps three at a time with those impossibly long legs holding a boy no older than seven. Camera name, Benny. Rafael had been in the mobile command center when SVU raided the warehouse and it came in over the radio. Four kids, and one was in worse shape than the others. Rafael's heart had stuck in his throat since he heard that all the way to now, as he stands outside the warehouse, half blinded by flashing police lights. But Sonny has Benny now, and as Sonny barrels past Rafael on his way to the medics, their eyes meet for the smallest of moments.

It's enough for both of them to know they're forgiven. 

Rafael turns to the two men they arrested on scene with cameras and a live feed. One is fat and tall, the other short and skinny. They're collard and sitting on the ground up against a wall as Amaro paces in front of them, making sure that if there's any opportunity to rough these guys up for resisting arrest, he gets first crack. 

They must know Rafael is a lawyer by the suit. As soon as he's within spitting distance, the short and skinny one jumps up, screaming, "I want a deal!" He's either smart, or he's been through this before. 

Amaro forces the guy back to the ground with a shove, next to tall and fat partner, frothing at the mouth in rage. Rafael takes it all in with blatant satisfaction. "Not a chance in hell," he says. 

Rafael learns their names later that afternoon as he peruses their files on his couch. He's sporting his scrubbiest outfit, casual joggers and a loose sweater, with his feet up on the other side of the sofa. How long had it been since the raid, half a day? The time had all blurred together, all Rafael knows is that it's about time to eat. He's debating Indian or Italian when he hears the lock of his front door click and turn. 

Rafael sits up a bit, pen still in his mouth. Waits and listens to the door opening slowly. Casually wonders if he's about to be violently murdered.

"Raf?"

He lets out the breath he was holding. "In here."

Sonny makes his way down the hall past the kitchen to the living room where Rafael has made his home on the couch. This is his favorite spot, where his floor to ceiling window overlooks the city. The view is a bit more breathtaking at night, but Sonny's seen it already anyway. 

"Hey. Sorry, I thought you'd be asleep." Sonny mumbles, sounding half-dead as he makes his way over. They're both running on two days of work with only two hours of sleep and it certainly shows. Rafael sets his notes and files aside as Sonny lets a duffel bag slip from his shoulders and land on the ground with a thump.

With a loud groan, Sonny not at all gently spreads himself out across Rafael and drops down on top of him like a corpse. "So tired." 

"Yes, well," Rafael lets his fingers work their way into the mop of dirty blond hair. "Me being asleep still doesn't excuse you breaking and entering."

"You gave me a key." Sonny mumbles into Rafael's neck. Their height difference can be a bit of a problem, even now with Sonny's gangly legs hanging off the other end of the couch.

"Still don't live here." Rafael observes as his fingers find their way to the back of Sonny's neck where he presses at the tension.

He's rewarded with a groan he normally hears in the bedroom. And occasionally in the living room, kitchen, and hallway. 

They're content to stay like that for a few minutes, until Rafael's fingers get stiff and he settles with gently running them through Sonny's hair. 

"I'm sorry for being a jerk." Sonny says in an unexpectedly clear voice.

The apology is nice. Appreciated. Deserved, certainly. But it doesn't give Rafael the vindication he imagined it would. Instead it sounds downright horrible, leaving an ashy taste in his mouth and an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. 

"Move in with me." Rafael says instead, because he won't stand to hear a second apology.

Sonny looks up from where his head was pillowed in the crook of Rafael's neck. He props himself up on one elbow in the gap between Rafael's chest and arm. "Did you hear me?" He asks, looking confused and tired. 

"Clearly." Rafael replies. "Move in with me."

"Moving awfully fast there, aren't you?"

"I am none the less certain for it." Rafael replies flawlessly. He looks around his apartment, a vision of minimalism and modernity. Which is a nice way of saying sparsely but tastefully decorated. Which is a nice way of saying that Rafael is lazy and won't decorate an apartment where he probavly spends the least amount of waking hours anyway. "I have the space, after all. Plus I live closer to the precinct."

Sonny, with his baggy, sleepy doe eyes, seems to turn this over in his head for a bit. 

Later than night, with Sonny completely conked out beside him in bed, Rafael remembers to shoot Rita a quick text before sleep;  **He said yes.**

There's a reply waiting for him in the morning.  **Stop bothering me with the obvious. Good lord.**


	4. Spanish Dandy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don’t think this chapter really fits into the overall theme of the story, its a shameless excuse for sex. It’s a bit simpler than the first three with less flashbacks. I wanted to make it simple for people to skip over the sex if they choose.
> 
> IF YOU ONLY WANT THE G RATED MATERIAL STOP READING AFTER THE FIRST LINE BREAK.
> 
> Also, tragically, all the Spanish in this chapter is Google translated. Please forgive me.
> 
> Explicit tags:  
> Anal sex, pre-negotiated consent, begging, orgasm delay/denial, bullying lover, praise kink, Spanish kink, rough-ish sex, dom/sub undertones

Rafael took college-level Spanish in high school during his senior year, and the class nearly destroyed his 4.2 GPA.

And wasn't that just the funniest thing to Alex and Eddie. Assholes.

In a moment of weakness and fear for her son's future, Lucia Barba chose not to speak Cuban-Spanish to her only son. The most precious (and only) gift her bastard husband ever gave her. It was a darker time in her life, living under his alcoholism and ever-shorter temper. Her husband was a stereotype - a drunk son of Cuban immigrants who blamed his ethnicity for locking him into the working class. And for a while, she believed his lies. His angry, bitter tirades about how looking different and speaking different was what held him back, never his personal failing. It's an old argument he picked up from his own father who lived much the same. And there is truth to it, Lucia has seen the way America treats those who speaks with accent, or God forbid, no English at all.

So she decides that English should be Rafi's first language.

She does not speak her mother tongue to Rafael as he grows up. Her husband barely speaks to Rafael at all, he's too small, too gentle for his tastes. She doesn't want her son to be made fun of, set back in life for the double homicide of being "Mexican" instead of white and funny speaking. And it's the greatest hypocrisy of a woman who aspires to be an educator, but at the time it's what she thought was best.

Of course, she knows her mother is whispering Spanish into Rafael's ear. And his friends, the two boys on Jerome Avenue, they speak Spanish at home and on the streets to Rafael. Poor Eddie, a child of alcohol and neglect, and sweet, intelligent Alex, who she hopes Rafael will be like some day. She knows that Alex and Eddie laugh at Rafael because he speaks like a gringo, but sneak Spanish swears and profanity to him like they're candy before dinner. And Rafael eats it up - he does not share his mother's fear of his heritage. But he seems to understand, he never asks why she doesn't speak Spanish to him, instead gathers tidbits of the language elsewhere when he can.

Rafael understands far too much of the world for his age.

And both inspired by her son and for his sake, she forces herself to be who she knows she can. Lucia fulfills her dream of becoming a teacher, and when Rafael sets his sights on the Ivy League when he enters high school, Lucia likewise aims for the principal position of the charter school where she's been recently hired.

Rafael is proud of her when she tells him as much, and she him. That's when the Spanish begins. Rafael insists on being fluent within the year, and it takes a day or two for Lucia to realize he's serious.

His accent is perfect but the learning curve is steep. Lucia buys a bulk pack of post-its on the way home from work and when Rafael gets back from school, every object in the house has a note stuck to it with it's Spanish name. They start speaking exclusively Spanish at home, and it delights Rafael's abuelita to no end. Lucia's bastard husband is as drunk as ever and offers no opinion, which is fine on all ends. It's meant to supplement the Spanish class Rafael is taking at school, making him a proper native speaker.. The start is slow, but he slowly gains momentum, and within a year his Spanish teacher is recommending that Rafael skip the Conversational level classes and instead take Fluency 2, Reading & Writing at the local college.

When Rafael gives the Valedictorian address three years later at his graduation, he risks the wrath of the school board by sneaking a personal shoutout into his speech, something all speakers were specifically warned against. Rafael steadfastly believes he has earned the opportunity, and no amount of years in a Catholic high school will ever stop him from being so damn cheeky. In the last sentence of a beautiful speech, he calls out Eddie and Alex, _los tres mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue,_ and his ever-inspirational mami.

All in Spanish, of course.

It's a long story that Rafael never tells anyone. He's proud of his Cuban heritage, simple as that. And he takes immense pleasure in the surprise on a stranger's face when he opens his mouth and speaks perfect, un-accented English when they were obviously expecting otherwise.

Conversely, Rafael’s ethnicity can be a bit of a sore spot.

”Spanish Dandy?” Rafael has been yelling at the top of his lungs. “Spanish Dandy?”

”Raf, please,” Sonny says from the couch where he’s sprawled, poking away at his 3DS game with little care in the world. “The neighbors,” he implores again with half-hearted effort, at best.

“Ay, Dios Mío,” Rafael grinds out and turns on his heel, going back over his tracks from the kitchen counter to the living room. He’s been bouncing off every wall since he got home, contained to that half of the apartment like a ping pong ball in a box. His clothes are scattered at his feet, which was Sonny’s second clue that something was wrong, the first being that Rafael had come home seething and cussing in Spanish.

“You keep talking like that I’m gonna call your mom,” Sonny yells, wrinkling his nose in displeasure when one of his character’s dies. He’ll have to start the map all over. “I know a swear word when I hear it!”

Rafael runs back into the kitchen counter, turns around and starts stomping towards the far wall again. “He comes into _my jurisdiction_ , having previously assaulted one of _my detecives_ , and thinks he can talk to me like that? Look down on me like that, because he’s a big shot in Atlanta?”

Sonny wonders which bit of the dinner Rafael found more upsetting, but is smart enough not to ask. He retstarts the chapter in Fire Emblem he’s been stuck on for hours. “You still haven’t really told me what happened.”

”He called me Dodds’s  _Spanish Dandy_!” Rafael yells from somewhere in the apartment, maybe the bathroom, hallway, or bedroom, Sonny can’t tell, and he can’t be bothered to sit up and look over the back of the couch to find out. He thinks he’s managed to piece together enough of the situation. 

“So, what’d you do?” Sonny asks. It’s not that he doesn’t care about this bastard Patton, or the way he treats women, or had treated Amanda. But it’s been weeks since his last interaction with the man, and there’s still one more week to go until his trial. Bless the American justice system and how slowly it moves. He was livid in the beginning, sure. But too much anger poisons the soul (his ma says so), and Carisi has already worn himself ragged banging his head on that particular wall. For now, he lets Rollins have her space, and tries to distract himself.

Sonny finds that video games help. It’s harder for Rafael, apparently.

”I told him that rape is a felony,” Rafael replies. His voice makes it sound like there might be steam coming out of his ears. 

“Woo boy, you showed him,” Sonny replies airily, smashing the A button to skip over the intro conversation to the map he’s already read through five times. 

“Well, I also told him, ‘ _Nos ceremony en los tribunals, mi amigo’._ ” 

“Raf, I don’t speak Spanish.”

”I said ‘See you in court’,” Rafael snaps. After a moment, he adds a little lamely, “my friend,” 

“Uh huh.”

”Alright, not my best comeback!” Rafael’s voice is bouncing now, which means he must have made his way into the hallway again. “But, the absolute hubris of that man! I can’t!” His volume is back up to that dangerous noise complaint level again.

“Uh huh.”

”To think he can throw my ethnicity in my face like an insult? Oh no,” From the sound of the footsteps, Rafael’s in the kitchen again. Well, it’s definitely more about Rafael’s ego than Amanda’s past, which means Sonny can feel a bit less guilty now about only half caring. “Oh, he will _pay for that one_ ,” 

Sonny thinks back to the first time he sat in on Rafael’s trial prep. He’d been practically vibrating in his seat off to the side of the room, he couldn’t believe his luck. Front row tickets to the best professional show in town. Here he was, getting the real deal. He never would have guessed that Rafael’s trial prep involved a pre-pre-trial prep that included him stomping around the apartment, usually angrier than a shaken box of bees.

Yesterday while he was drinking his coffee, Sonny thought he saw a tread of wearing in the wood from where Rafael does his angry pacing.

Sonny is startled out of his thoughts by another angry grunt. Finally, he decides he can be bothered to set down his game. He sits up, throws his arms over the back of the couch and rests his chin on the leather. “Doing okay over there?”

Rafael reappears from the hallway. He’s disheveled, in that tired-overworked sexy way that Sonny can’t get enough of. His clothes are tossed haphazardly on the floor from where he’d dropped them in a rage as he paced. A tie in the kitchen, a suit jacket in the hallway, a vest over a nearby lamp. He’s left in his slacks, his lilac dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the front buttons undone. His hair is falling in his eyes, his perfectly gelled style lost in his frustration.

Sonny’s mouth might water a little.

”That absolute _pendejo_ bastard,” Rafael throws his fists up in the air. “Sonny, darling, _mi corazón._ I’m about to commit a crime of passion.”

”Alright, well, let me cover my eyes first,” Sonny places both hands over his face and smiles. “Okay, go,”

There are a couple moments of silence while Sonny keeps his eyes shut. When he does open them, Rafael’s got one hand on his hip and an eyebrow raised. “Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated,” he grumbles. 

“Raf,” Sonny turns back to his 3DS and suspends his game before snapping it shut and putting it on the coffee table. “Come on. So what, the guy called you a Spanish Dandy, or whatever. You’ve heard worse.” Sonny leans back over the couch and starts counting them off on his fingers, “Bastard. Filthy bastard. Heartless bastard. Asshole. Son of a bitch. Oh, I almost forgot smarmy bastard, that one’s my favorite,”

”Yes, thank you, _mi vida_ ,” Rafael still sounds pissed as hell, but he deflates enough to come over to the couch, dropping down with a huff next to Sonny. He crosses his eyes and grunt, and Sonny eyes the way the shirt sleeves are tight around his forearms. “But you singing my praises isn’t exactly making me feel better,”

”Why are you even so mad?” Sonny scoots back so he can lean against the arm of the couch. He’s still in his work clothes, having dropped on the couch and opened up his 3DS without even changing when he got home. He hooks a finger in his tie, wiggling it loose as he leans back and drapes his legs over Rafael’s lap. “Again, you’ve been called worse.”

”I just don’t like the guy,” Rafael glares down at Sonny’s calves. “Smug bastard.”

”Then destroy him in court,” Sonny shrugs and starts picking at a bit of dirt under his fingernail. When he doesn’t get a reply, he looks back up at Rafael, who is giving Sonny’s legs his strongest death glare. Sonny thinks he feels his leg hair stand on end, but that might just be coincidence. “Oh my god,” he breathes. “You’re nervous for court.”

Rafael flinches as if he’s been struck. He looks at Sonny with a face too offended to not be hiding something else, and his shoulders tense. “You are!” Sonny says again and sits up straighter. “You totally are!”

”I am not _nervous_ ,” Rafael says through clenched teeth and looks away. “There’s just a lot riding on this case. Buchanan is a good lawyer.”

”Who you’ve beat before,” Sonny frowns, “Come on, Raf. You’ve never had a problem with him before, what’s up?”

”It’s nothing,” Rafael crosses and uncrosses his legs. Uncrosses and recrosses his arms. Rubs his chin, runs a hand through his hair. For a prosecutor who’s dating a detective, one would expect Rafael to be more conscious of his body language. “I can’t lose this case.” 

“Duh.”

”I have to do right,” Rafael clears his throat, adjusts himself on the couch awkwardly as he stares out the window over the city. “By the victims.”

”You mean by Amanda,” Sonny says, and slowly a smile breaks out on his face. “Raf.”

”Sonny, cut it out,”

”Raf-i-i-i-i-i,” Sonny drags out the name the exact way that he knows drive Rafael bonkers. “Rafi, you _do care_!”

Rafael rollls his eyes and groans. 

“I knew you loved us all, deep down,” Sonny reaches out and gently punches him in the shoulder. “Even Fin. You big old teddy bear, you."

”Don’t push it.” Rafael sighs deeply and rubs his eyes. “Can’t let word get out that my heart isn’t made of coal.” 

“Yeah, well,” Sonny strains himself to sit up and lean forward, gently pressing a quick kiss to Rafael’s cheek before flopping back down. “Since you were brave enough to tell the truth, I’ll even lend you my wisdom with trial prep.”

”I’m forever in your debt,” Rafael says in a way that is somehow deadpan yet entirely made up of sarcasm. 

“You’re welcome,” Sonny beams. “First thing in the morning though, I’ve got to beat this level.” He reaches for his 3DS again, powering it up. 

“ _Dolor en el trasero,_ ”

“Hey! I don’t know what you said but it was probably mean!” Sonny gently kicks at Rafael’s legs when he’s met with a smirk. He shoots him a glare before turning back to his game, sulking. “Spanish Dandy,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Excuse me?” 

Sonny freezes at the words, said so slowly and darkly the tone and intention are unmistakable. 

"Raf, come on, I was-"

"You were?" Rafael moves Sonny's ankles off his lap and starts crawling across the couch, his eyes dark and predatory from where he situates himself between Sonny's legs. Sonny tries to sit up, weighs his chances of getting away, but Rafael reads his mind and stops him with a firm grip on his shoulder. His other hand comes up to tug at the already loose knot of his tie. "You were what, Dominick?" 

Sonny's 3DS falls to the floor with a  _thwack_ that makes him wince. "Come on, Raf. I had a long day at work." 

"So did I." Rafael brushes aside his complaint and pushes Sonny further down to the couch so he's towering above him. He manages to slip the knot of his tie completely undone, pulling it free from Sonny's shirt collar. It's a dark navy from Tj Maxx, one of Sonny's favorites, and Rafael rubs the fabric between his fingers. "I could use a little stress release." 

"We gotta be up early," Sonny tries, squirming under Rafael's careful hands that start to work on the top buttons of his shirt. "Trial prep, and, uh." 

It's pretty clear that Rafael isn't listening. "Dominick," he breaths into the skin of Sonny's neck, sending shivers up and down his spine, and damnit, if that isn't cheating. 

* * *

"Raf, please. Please, please, please-" 

"Something you want to say, Dominick?"

"I- fuck. I'm sorry I called you a Spanish Dandy, okay? Forgive me already." 

"Hm," Rafael hums, pursing his lips while he entertains the thought, running a hand up and down Sonny's side. Even through his own haze, Sonny know's that Rafael is faking - he's using the same light "hm" and making the same friendly face he gives all the perps and defense lawyers when they come crawling to him for a plea deal they spat on just that morning before court. 

"No." Rafael finally says with a grin. "I rather like you this way. The one time I don't mind that you can never shut your mouth." He grinds his hips up at that, punctuating his point by driving hard into Sonny to drag a groan from him. 

"Raf, please." Sonny tries again because there's not much else he can do when Rafael gets into one of these moods. "Let me come. I'm begging you."

"And I'm loving it." Rafael replies casually. "By all means, continue." 

"Fucker," Sonny chokes out and brings down his hands, bound together at the wrist by his stupid Tj Maxx tie, to splay his fingers on Rafael's chest and get himself some leverage as he rides Rafael's cock. 

"Watch your mouth," Rafael tells him, his voice perfectly even and reasonable as if he's chastising a child. He tugs the length of the tie he's holding like a leash - threaded and knotted artfully around Sonny's wrists with a long tail for Rafael to hold - almost pulling Sonny over and effectively stealing away whatever arm support he had. "Just your legs." Rafael instructs needlessly because he's in a teasing mood. 

"Fudger," Sonny bites out sarcastically, but he doesn't try to put his hands down again, instead holding them uselessly in front of his chest. His legs are long enough to plant his knees on either side of Rafael's hips, but not quite long enough to move himself up and down with ease.

"Gorgeous," Rafael purrs and uses the hand that isn't holding Sonny's leash to pillow his head as he enjoys his show. 

Sonny groans and takes a moment to let the burning in his thighs subside. They've been at this for at least an hour, starting with Rafael holding him down and stripping him on the couch in the living room before tying his wrists. Of course, Sonny has a good height advantage on his boyfriend and he aced his hand-to-hand training in the academy, but his instructor hadn't prepared him for a scenario in which his attacker knew all his tickle spots. All Rafael has to do is start prodding at his hip joints and Sonny will let Rafael truss him up like a turkey just to get him to stop. 

From there, it's a flurry of activity as Rafael leads them to the bedroom, divulges them of clothing, fingers Sonny open and pulls him down to ride him, never once letting Sonny use his hands. 

Sonny's starting to think just maybe Rafael has a thing about being control. 

Because when Rafael's in one of these moods, his idea of control is  _complete control_ and he's a sadistic bastard about it, except for Sonny's safeword. "Ride me," Rafael had said, tugging his end of the leash around Sonny's wrists. "Feel free to come whenever you want," Rafael had said, knowing full well that Sonny couldn't get the momentum he needed to get off like this, not without being able to touch himself. "Without your hands," Rafael had said, giving the leash a vicious tug when Sonny tried to help himself along. 

So here they are, Sonny trying his best to bring himself to something approaching orgasm in short bursts of energy that dwindles even faster the longer they're at it. 

And here Rafael is, soaking it all up, because he already got to come once, when Sonny still had the energy to move fast enough for long enough. 

"So tight," Rafael breaths out, sounding completely relaxed and content with himself as Sonny grinds down on him. "What happened to the begging?" 

Sonny, a little put out by the unfairness of the situation, makes a show of snapping his mouth shut. Rafael loves doing this to him - loves driving Sonny crazy with teasing touches, slow and deep thrusts. He knows Sonny has limited patience and uses it against him, and Sonny falls for it every time, letting Rafael prod and play with him until he's a helpless mess, begging Rafael for something, anything. But Sonny isn't stupid, he knows that Rafael does this for the begging - both outright pleading and senseless whimpering, and that's the one thing Sonny thinks he can use against Rafael this time. If he takes away what Rafael wants, he might be so inclined to give Sonny a little of what he wants. 

"Oh," Rafael responds with a vicious smirk. "Pleading the fifth, are we?" 

Sonny almost opens his mouth to tell Rafael that his lawyer sex puns are sloppy and stupid, but catches himself just in time. 

"Or he's pouting," Rafael says with fake condolence. "Poor thing."

Sonny shoots him a glare and grinds downward with a twist of his hips. 

Rafael rides out his move with a sharp intake of breath. "That's alright," he sighs out when Sonny stills again. He reaches down with the hand he'd been using as a pillow and takes a firm hold of Sonny's cock. "Getting people to talk is my specialty." 

 _Finally, thank fuck,_ Sonny thinks as Rafael starts working him, slow and firm with a little twist at the head, just the way he likes. In return, Sonny lets out a soft sigh and hums, starting to move his hips again. 

"There's a good boy..." Rafael is cooing at him as he strokes him. Sonny's cock is plenty wet with lube from Rafael tormenting him earlier, and the tight, warm slick and slip of his hand is just right. "Are you going to come for me?"

Sonny nods frantically with a little whimper in the back of his throat. He hasn't come even once tonight and he feels his orgasm building even faster than he expected. His thighs are starting to burn, but he can ignore in lieu of chasing this high. It's starting to gain momentum, like climbing a hill, and he's so, so near the top he could cry. 

"So beautiful," Rafael is saying, even though Sonny is hardly paying attention. All he can focus on is keeping the angle of Rafael's cock inside him perfectly on his sweet spot while Rafael jerks him so perfectly, adding just enough speed and pressure to get him just that much closer to coming. "So eager. You're going to come, aren't you."

Sonny starts nodding harder even though there was no question about it. His breath is coming in short gasps through his nose, his head starting to swim so pleasantly. As he thrusts faster into Rafael's hand he bounces just as quickly on his cock, and it all feels  _so good_ he's going to- 

"Go ahead then." Rafael says, and completely lets go of Sonny's cock. 

Sonny can't help but let out a groan as if he's in pain as his orgasm slips from his fingers. He keeps thrusting, chasing the sweet heat of Rafael's hand that is no longer there, instead just teasingly tapping the tip of Sonny's cock with a finger. "I said you could come," Rafael tells him, perfectly feigning innocence as he runs a finger down and back up the length of Sonny's cock before tickling the tip again. 

All Sonny can offer is another groan as his orgasm falls completely out of reach and his hips stutter to a stop, his cock twitching expectedly. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rafael says as if he's come to some great realization. "Here, let's try again."

He takes Sonny back in hand, again with that perfect slow and firm grip with the little twist at the head.  _No, no, no, stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Sonny thinks to himself. His head is quickly trying to tell his body not to fall for it, but Sonny's cock has apparently got more blood that his brain at this point, because he starts bouncing on Rafael's again, thrusting up into his hand like a trained animal. 

And at the last second, Rafael opens his hand, leaving Sonny to thrust into air as his orgasm slips away a second time. Sonny doesn't know how Rafael reads him so well, so easily, maybe there's a tell in his face or in the pace of his hips, but Rafael manages to pull away at just the right second, as Sonny felt it building in the pit of his stomach. 

This time, Sonny can't suppress a full blown sob. Nor can he stop himself from reaching down to finish himself off,  _rules be damned_. 

Rafael immediately yanks the leash, pulling Sonny's hands away from his own cock. "I'm sorry,  _mi corazón._ " Rafael grunts out, pulling the tie taut so that Sonny's forced to plant his hands in the pillow above Rafael's head. "If you want something, you'll have to tell me. I'm not a mind reader." 

Sonny groans again.  _Screw you,_ he wants to say, but his head is all muddled with the repeated ups and downs of his pleasure, and he's definitely not getting enough oxygen to his brain, breathing through his nose like this. And because Rafael always, always wins...

"Please, Rafael, please,  _touch me_ , let me come, I'm begging you, please." 

Rafael smiles at him like a proud parents, and for a second Sonny thinks he'll finally know mercy. 

" _Lo siento,_ " Rafael says, his voice sultry and rough and _accented_ in the way that sends a thrill through Sonny's cock. " _Este dandy español no habla inglés_."

"Oh, fuck!" Sonny cries out when Rafael drops the leash to grip his hips in both hands, plant his feet in the bed, and start thrusting up into Sonny like he's trying to kill him. "Raf!"

"Fuck, so tight-" Rafael grunts, trying to hold Sonny in place as he pounds up into him. Sonny, meanwhile, has given up on anything cognitive, falling forward to bury his face in Rafael's neck while he pants his name and whimpers. Rafael has been building to his second orgasm for the past ten minutes, and already knows where Sonny is at. "Do you want to come?" 

"Yes! Rafael, please!" Sonny gasps out into his neck and Rafael can see his toes starting to curl. 

"Alright," Rafael lets his head fall back as he puts the last of his strength into thrusting into Sonny, that tight, warm heat that flexes and clenches him so perfectly, like a glove just a little too tight. "Alright, come on, baby," he gasps out, and snakes one hand in between their bodies to start stroking Sonny. They're too along for it to be coordinated with his thrusts, but Sonny doesn't care, and with one full stroke down and back up, he's coming all over Rafael's stomach. 

" _Mierda_ -" Rafael grunts as Sonny clenches around him, so tight he can barely move.

He tips over the edge when Sonny bites down on the meat of his shoulder. 

* * *

Rafael wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand and the bed empty next to him. 

 

It's still dark outside and the clock reads 5:47, casting a pale green glow across the empty expanse of Sonny's side of the bed. Rafael props himself up on one elbow, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as he thinks. He remembers the end of the night - untying Sonny's wrists and kissing the chafed skin, cuddling him and getting him a glass water from the kitchen and his 3DS from the living room. They'd fallen asleep not much later, with Rafael pouring over his trial notes and Sonny curled up against his thigh, tapping away at his video game until neither of them could keep their eyes open. 

He remembers they fell asleep with their hands touching, back to back, because Sonny is a thrasher and can't be cuddled to sleep without someone nearly losing an eye.

So Sonny's not mad at him. He must have been called in to work. Satisfied with this, Rafael flops back down, pulling the covers to his chin to fall back asleep. 

His phone buzzes again. 

Call Rafael paranoid, but once his phone buzzes, rings, pings, or dings, he can't ignore it. He is physically and psychologically unable, because there are so many bad things it could be. A witness murdered, an emergency at the office, something happened to Sonny-

Rafael throws back the blankets and grabs his phone, ripping out the charging cable in his haste. 

**5:05/ Carisi, Det. - Got called in to work. Coffee in the pot, don't forget to heat it up.**

Rafael taps out a quick **Thanks. Have a good day** , as if he won't be seeing Sonny at work in a few hours.

Rafael moves on to the second text from Rita. 

**5:46/ Calhoun, Rita - [image attachment]**

Rafael screws up his face in confusion as he waits for the image to load. He should really get an upgrade, or think about replacing the battery or -

The picture that loads is of him, fast asleep and dead to the world in his own bed with a pink teddy bear in a blue tutu tucked snuggly under his chin. Specifically, the teddy bear that has been collecting dust in the hall closet for the past month even though Sonny's niece's birthday isn't for three more weeks because  _Raf, what if we come back and they're sold out? Look at it, it's perfect, I have to get it now!_

Rafael feels his cheeks start to heat with embarrassment and anger as he stabs out a reply, his brain still trying to catch up. When did Sonny take that? It must have been before he left for work.  **Blackmail is a felony, you know. How did he even get your number???**

Rita's reply is instantaneous, which only proves how much fun this must be for her.  **He** **? He who? Attorney client privilege. Sorry, _peluche._**

Rafael groans and flops onto his back, his phone bouncing off the bed to land, and hopefully be lost forever, in the bedsheets. 

He's going to kill Sonny. 

 


End file.
